


Morning Star in the North

by Sookiestark



Series: Twelve Days of Westerosi Christmas [8]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-02-26 15:26:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13238622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sookiestark/pseuds/Sookiestark
Summary: What if Ned Stark had married Ashara because she was pregnant after the Tourney of Harrenhal? What would have changed?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So- I love Ashara as a character and I want her to be happy so this is my ship Ned/Ashara. 
> 
> A couple things, there are some great stories and theories that Brandon and Ashara are a thing- This is not one of those stories. Here Ned is the one who gets Ashara pregnant. 
> 
> As I was writing this story, I was able to write a little about Rhaegar and Lyanna. I am not the biggest fan of their relationship. I really have a hard time with him and so many things about the Tower of Joy and how things shook down. I am hoping this story helps me figure it out. 
> 
> The next chapter will be Robert's Rebellion and the aftermath. Obviously things will change if Ned doesn't marry Catelyn.

Lady Stark likes her rooms as hot as they can be in Winterfell. It is because she was raised in the South in the hot Dornish sun. It is said Lord Stark loved her because of that because she is pure fire and he is the northern ice. Everyone told her that he was a cold man and she would be miserable. She knew they were wrong. He is not cold and she is far from miserable. 

 

Her rooms are the warmest ones in Winterfell, where the hot water rushes through the walls. Sometimes, while she lays in bed, she can hear the rushing water over stones and thinks of the Torrentine river and her childhood home of Starfall. Sometimes, she gets homesick but she never regrets her choices. 

In the beginning, it was hard for her so far from her home. Everything was different here and it was like learning a new language. She made a great many mistakes in the beginning. However, time and her generous nature made the Northerners warm to her. She and Ned have been married for fifteen years. 

Keeping her rooms hot is just one of the ways she is different from them, a Southron person, a Dornish woman. In the beginning, the fact she was Dornish was what was always the most difficult thing to get over. Northern ladies would not speak to her or if they did they would ask impolite questions about Dornish culture, like how many bastards her father had or was it true that the Dornish had a particular smell. 

Her father had not wanted her to leave Dorne, even though she was with child. He had told her stories of cannibals, giants, icy people in an inhospitable land. Ashara had laughed gently. “You sent me from Dorne years ago. I promise you the North will be safer than King’s Landing.”

Her mother had agreed with father, beautiful Mother with her silver hair and her purple eyes, the signature look of the Daynes. They were one of the houses in Westeros who could say they had the blood of Old Valyria 

Her mother had fought with her to turn her back on the boy from Harrenhal, who was too shy to ask her to dance. “He may have been too shy to ask you to dance, but where was his timidness when he took your honor?”

The only one in her family who had seemed pleased at all was her grandfather, Old Lord Dayne. He had held her hands in his old gnarled fingers and told her to go and be happy. “If that Northern boy captured your heart, go and find happiness. Wherever you go, you will bring your happiness with you. “

It was the Tourney at Harrenhal that changed her life. Until then, she had been a poor, Dornish copy of her sister, Aurora. Looking like a Valyrian Princess, Aurora, with silver hair and purple eyes, had been the eldest daughter and the more beautiful of the sisters. In some circles, it was whispered that Aurora had been Aerys II first choice to be a bride for Prince Rhaegar. However, Aurora had fallen into the Torrentine, hitting her head on the rocks, and drowning. She had been dead for three years. 

At Harrenhal, she had finally been without Aurora’s shadow or her ghost. Elia had had a dress made of purple velvet with sequins and diamonds sewn into it to look like stars for Ashara. Elia had laughed when Ashara had said it was too fine to wear and she should wear it, “Look at me, pregnant and fat. Even if I wasn’t, I do not have the curves like you Ashara. It would fall down.”

Ashara had wrinkled her nose at the idea that she might be prettier than the future Queen. Elia had hugged her. Even though Elia was much older, Ashara was her dearest friend and closest company, as well as one of her ladies-in-waiting.

Elia had continued, “Your mother has been pressuring you to come home and marry. Perhaps, we will find you a good man here.”

She had danced with a number of men that night. When a handsome, dark-haired lord with a wolf pin on his chest had asked her to dance with his younger brother, Ashara had laughed and looked across the hall to see a long-faced young man, who seemed like a lesser version of the elder brother. She could not tell you what she saw in the young man but her heart started racing and she felt nervous and curious to meet this man.

Elia had leaned over to tell her that that was the Heir to Winterfell, Brandon Stark, and the younger man, Eddard Stark.

Ashara had walked to the younger Stark brother who had stood immediately. When his eyes met her, they were the color of the morning mist in the dawn and she had smiled. He had blushed.

“You must be the younger Stark. I have come to dance with you, my Lord, if you will have me?”

There was something about the way he looked at her, as if she was the most precious thing he had ever seen. Lord Connington had never looked at her like that and Prince Oberyn Martell looked at her like he would like to bed her on the floor where they danced, but not that she was precious. Ser Barristan Selmy looked at her like that sometimes, but there was no future in loving a knight of the Kingsguard. 

They had spent the rest of the night in each other’s company. He had asked her if she was promised or betrothed to another man. When she said no, his smile widened and she thought it might light the whole room. Perhaps, this was the good man her mother had been hoping she would find. They had talked about the Tourney and about their childhoods. Never had she thought to find someone who understood her feelings about her sister and her family, until she had started talking to him.

He had taken her to the yard and behind one of the ruined towers, he had kissed her. She had grown bold and warm. She had run her pale fingers through his long dark curls and he had whispered sweet words to her. His kisses had inspired her to be someone else, neither good nor dutiful. She had never been kissed until he had kissed her and she never wanted to feel another man’s kiss.

Ashara took some wine and brought him to her room to keep talking. At sixteen, she only had the vaguest notion of sex, but she never wanted the night to end. He had told her to call him Ned. When he touched her hair, he asked if she would take it down. She had been certain he thought it was ugly, so black and wavy, but he had run his hands through it and said it was beautiful. There were soft kisses, burning touch and passionate desire. In the light of the dawn, he had looked at her, naked beside him, and she saw the guilt and shame on his face. “Ned, perhaps we were wrong. Perhaps, you regret..”

“Shhh.. I regret nothing. I will not dishonor you. We will write in secret and in time, I will persuade my father to allow me to marry you. I could never love another woman. I could never be so happy.”

Rickard Stark was not happy when he received a letter from the Lord of Starfall that Ashara’s honor had been lost to his second son Eddard Stark. But Rickard Stark had honor as thick as his son and would not his son to ruin a highborn ladies honor, even if she was Dornish. Rickard half believed she had seduced Ned. Obviously, Ned would not have been bold enough to go to her rooms without her being the initiator. But it mattered not. What mattered was she was pregnant and Ned admitted, not only to the act but to write to her in secret. They had been writing back and forth and Princess Elia knew well who the father of the child was.

When Ashara arrived in White Harbor, Ned was there white-knuckled with his father at his side. She had dressed poorly for the cold and he had brought her furs for the journey. When he placed the cloak around her shoulders, even stern Rickard had softened at Ned’s gentleness, Ashara knew she would not be disappointed in her husband.

Lady Ashara had come with a trunk full of dresses too flimsy to keep her warm, and slippers not made for the snow. She had a cage full of purple and green songbirds from far away and a cloak with the Dayne sigil that he would replace with a Stark one.

His elder brother had been there and she had heard him whisper that Ned was a lucky man. His younger brother, Benjen, had spent any chance asking on her brother Ser Arthur Dayne, Sword of Morning and legendary swordsman. Lyanna, Ned’s only sister had helped her dress and brush her hair. She had seemed distracted and distant.

 

If Ashara could have known what Lyanna was playing at, she would not have spoken so fondly of Rhaegar and King’s Landing. Ashara had wanted to win a friend and so she told sweet stories of Rhaegar’s music, of his learning, of his chivalry. If Ashara had known, she would have spoken of Rhaenys and the newborn, Aegon. She would have told her of the children and how much they needed a father. However, Ashara did not know. 

 

She woke one frosty morning to find her beautiful purple and green birds, frozen and dead on the bottom of the cage. Ashara had taken a soft towel and rubbed gently, trying to warm them as she cried, and two came back. She learned to bring them in at night because, even in the summer, it could freeze in the North. 

On the fourth night, she was in Winterfell, they had married in the godswood. There had been no feast, no bedding, no Septon to bless them. Winterfell didn’t even have a sept. Instead in the darkness, by torchlight, they had said their vows to each other in front of their weirwood. 

 

Of course, Winterfell has a sept now. A small sept that Ned built for her when she was pregnant with Sansa. He even sent a message to the South to have them send a Septon and a Septa. It is small and rough and Ashara loves it. Every rough stone and wood is a symbol of how much her husband loves her and wants her to be home here in Winterfell. 

He built her a glass house to grow spicy orange and yellow peppers and sweet red fire plums, so sweet and so spicy. Ned can barely stand to taste her food with peppers. It burns his tongue. There are also purple lilies and roses that grow all year in the glass house for her bedroom. 

It is spoken in the South that Lady Ashara is the reason that Lord Stark did not lose his head.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So-- The story got longer by a chapter- I wanted to have a chapter to set up the beginning of Robert's rebellion and there will be one for the finish of it... 
> 
> Hopefully, the next chapter wont take so long to write.

The child that she bore that winter was a girl. Their first child was a tiny little thing with dark hair and eyes the color of steel, the color of the sky in winter. It had been a difficult birth and at the end, exhausted and tired, Maester Luwin had said. “You must push, my Lady.”

Lady Ashara had not wanted to push. She had wanted her mother and she had wanted the pain to end, but she did not want to push. She wanted to be back in Starfall, Harrenhal, even King’s Landing, anywhere but the birthing bed. Somewhere in the pain, she had looked in his kind eyes and listened to him, “You must push, my Lady. Then the pain will end and we will have a baby in Winterfell.” 

Briefly, she had remembered when she had helped Princess Elia with her first child, Rhaenys. Rhaegar had seemed troubled by his father and his increasingly erratic behavior and had wanted to get his wife away from the King’s sight and to safety. Lady Ashara had left with the Prince and Princess soon after the wedding to Dragonstone. Dragonstone was a gloomy place filled with monstrous stone dragons and cloudy days. 

Elia found herself with a child almost immediately. The vomiting didn’t stop until she was well into her six month. The Maester on Dragonstone would give her sweetened milk with honey, to try and get her to gain weight for the baby. Elia grew weaker and weaker and the baby seemed to take all her weight and strength.

When Elia’s water had broken and the pains had started, in a panic, she had pleaded with Ashara to stay with her. Fifteen years old, she had wondered what her friend hoped she could do. Instead, she had remembered the Dornish birthing circles. When women’s time came, all the woman in her circle, her village, her family, the keep, would come and help bring the baby and the mother through the difficult birth. 

Ashara had been the youngest, and though her sister recently was born, she had been in King’s Landing for the birth. She had never been in a birthing circle, never seen a birth, and wasn’t entirely sure what would happen. However, she loved Elia and she was certain she could help somehow. She had squeezed her friend’s hand and said that she would be the Dornish birthing circle.

Even though Elia was pale and afraid, she had laughed, “You are only one girl. Not quite a circle.”

Ashara had smiled and thought. Teasing her friend, she had joked, “I could get Arthur. He is as Dornish as we are..”

Elia had laughed and Ashara had joined her at the thought of the Sword of Morning coming to help. Arthur would get pale at the idea of a woman’s monthly time and might faint if he had to come help. 

The day turned into night and the baby had refused to come. Rhaegar waited in his rooms down the hall, while Ashara had wiped her dear friend’s brow, helped her breathe and gave her water and tea. Finally, the midwife had tried to get the Princess to push, but Elia had been too weak to push or even sit up. Ashara had tried her best to keep her upright. When it looked like the Princess might be dying, the Maester had taken Ashara by the hand and led her out to the hallway.

Rhaegar was there, waiting. Ashara was exhausted and wondered how it must be to wait in a study, drinking wine and reading, waiting for the Prince to be born. The Maester had told them both that the birth seemed to be taking quite a toll on the small, tired body of the Princess. The Maester had asked Prince Rhaegar, if the worse came, did he want him to save his wife or the baby. Rhaegar had looked at Ashara, lost in what dreams or plans he might have had for the future. Immediately, Ashara had seen the hesitation and the regret and had known what he would say. She could not bear to hear him say it, and so she had answered them both. “We will save them both. They will both come through. I promise you, your Grace.”  
Going back in the birthing room, she had hated Arthur, Rhaegar, and the Maester. In fact, she had disliked all men, men who would make the children gladly and sit in a study, drinking Tyroshi brandy, waiting for women to do the ugly messy work of birth. Women, who risked death and illness, would cry, scream, sweat, and bleed, risking everything. Then, in the end, a Maester could ask casually who should be saved, the mother or child. She wanted to scream and rage that Prince Rhaegar had done anything, thought anything, except to save her beautiful friend, Elia.

Several more hours had passed. When the baby had finally come, Rhaenys had been blue and did not cry. The midwife had handed her the baby and told her to rub the tiny thing with dark hair in a bucket of warm water with a towel. As she had, the color came slowly back to the baby, the warm olive of Dorne, a mixture of the brown rocks and the baked sand. Elia had called out weakly, “What is it, Ashara? Why is he not crying?”

Ashara had called from her place by the fire, “It is a beautiful girl. A princess. Give her a minute. She will cry.”

Ashara had prayed to all Seven of the Gods that the newborn would breathe and live. In a moment, the baby had hiccuped and started crying. Blood was staining the sheets and blankets. Princess Elia had started to cry. “Take care of my daughter. I do not think I will make it to see her grown.” 

“Shhh,” Ashara had said showing the baby her friend. “You and I will dance at her wedding like I danced at yours.” 

Elia had healed and gotten better, slowly, so slowly, too slowly. As she healed, Prince Rhaegar had fallen in love with his daughter. Never had she seen a man so taken with a child, especially a girl. Often, he could be seen talking to the infant or reading her ancient scrolls. Prince Rhaegar had been in love with the baby, more than he had ever loved her mother. 

Rhaenys Targaryen was a miniature Princess Elia, with olive skin, dark hair, and burning black eyes. She looked not a drop like a Targaryen, and still, Rhaegar loved her without hesitation. Though it was a family name, Ashara thought it also might be how much she meant to Rhaegar to name her Rhaenys. After all, Rhaenys had been the one that Aegon had loved with his whole heart and body. The fact that Rhaegar had loved his daughter so much softened Ashara to him again. Prince Rhaegar had taken his newborn daughter as soon as she was able to travel to see his father in King’s Landing. 

The Maester had come to Elia, while Rhaegar was away. “My Lady, I don’t really know how to say this.. The birth was extremely and I would discourage you from another pregnancy. Another one might kill you.”

Elia’s eyes had darkened, “There must be a Prince. Rhaegar must have a son. Would you deny him an heir?”

The Maester had tried to reason with her, telling her that Rhaegar had a brother, Viserys. Viserys might have children to sit on the Iron Throne. Elia had thrown him out of her room and would not allow anyone to speak of it in her presence. “Rhaegar will have a son and I will give him one.”

Rhaegar had come back too quickly from King’s Landing. When asked why he had come back so soon, Rhaegar only said his mother had loved the baby. Word came back that the King had said she had smelled Dornish. Ashara had understood what that meant. In a family that had Old Valyrian blood, there was disappointment over children who came out looking Dornish. Asher, Arthur, and Aurora were all classic Valyrian features, silver hair, purple eyes, fine features. Only she and her youngest sister had the dark Dornish hair and olive skin. The words her mother had spoken rang in her ears, a poor copy. After Ashara had heard what the King had said, she had pressed the child close to her chest, hoping Elia did not hear and promising to protect the child. 

Exhausted and weary, Ashara had remembered the bitterness and the love that she had felt for Elia and her child. She knew that Elia, far away in the South, would be here for her if she could and she would tell her to push. Perhaps if she had a boy, he could marry the Princess Rhaenys. In that instant, she had grabbed Maester Luwin’s hand, “Get me my husband. Find Ned.”

Ned had come pale and trembling to her birthing bed. Once he had arrived, she had felt calmer but had forgotten why she had sent for him at all. All she could think of was the pain and the fear that seem to grip her whole body. Maester Luwin explained something to him, but Ashara could not hear. Ned had said something like he was unsure if he could help, but he had seen horses foal.

Ned had looked at his wife. He had furrowed his brow and taken her hand, brushing the hair from her eyes, “Shh.. Ashara, I am here. We need to get the baby out. Together.”

Trembling and squeezing her eyes shut, she had said, “I cannot. It hurts. I cannot. I want to go home.”

He had bit his lip and kissed her forehead, “Ash... Please, I know it hurts, but if you push, the baby will come and the pain will stop.” 

She didn’t know if it was the gentle commanding tone in his voice or the fact he called her his pet name for her, but she opened her eyes. Ned Stark smiled to see her open her eyes. He leaned close to her, “You are my morning star. In the dark, I look for you and find my way. Don’t leave me now. Stay, I only just found you. Push and we will have the rest of our lives. Push and we will have a baby. Stay with me, Ash.”

Somewhere, she found the strength in his grip to push and she pushed as hard as she could.

With a great pressure and pain, her daughter was born, looking identical to her father and all his kin. When Ned had shown her the baby, he had laughed to see all the dark curls on her head. Holding the baby like she was a precious treasure, he had kissed Ashara and thanked her. 

Ned had asked if he could name her Ayanna for Ashara and his sister, Lyanna. When Lord Rickard Stark came to hold his first grandchild, a rare smile had broken across his stony face. “She is all Stark, this girl. Take care. She has wolfsblood. I know how difficult it is to have children with wolfsblood. ” Brandon, Lyanna, and Benjen had all come with their father to visit the newest Stark. Brandon had spent the time, teasing Ned that he could be a midwife instead of his bannerman. Lyanna had held her namesake with wonder, all smiles, and laughter, showing Benjen how small he had been. 

No one ever said the child looked Dornish, though her skin was more olive than her father’s family. Instead, Ayanna was only ever a child of the North. No one treated her less for her dark hair or her darker skin

Lyanna would come to her chambers to hold the baby, as Ashara healed. Looking out the windows longingly, Lyanna would sew and rock the baby. Since Ashara was relegated to bed rest, there was little they could do, so they filled their hours with talk. Ashara had thought of Lyanna as her sister and perhaps they might grow as close as she and Aurora had been. Once, Lyanna had asked her how she knew she was in love and how she was willing to go against her family and all she believed in for love. 

Ashara remembered telling her that once her elder sister died, she realized we only had one life. She had laughed gently, “When Ned kissed me at Harrenhal, I knew he was the one. Why spend my life dreaming of the man I love, but married to someone my mother chose?” 

Ashara would remember saying that for the rest of her life.

Lyanna would ask her to describe the Prince. At the time, Ashara thought it was just a young girl’s fancy. After all, Rhaegar was the heir to the Iron Throne, the Prince of Dragonstone, and one day, he would be King of Westeros. She had been at Harrenhal and seen Lyanna like most of the other young women weep when Rhaegar sang. Ashara had been there when he had crowned Lyanna, the Queen of Love and Beauty. But, she also had known Rhaegar since she was a child. Rhaegar was a man who was a true knight and took his vows seriously. Rhaegar was married and Lyanna was betrothed. Ashara told her of Rhaegar’s music, of his melancholy, of his gentleness, and how he loved his daughter. She spoke that Rhaegar was a man who valued honesty and he took his promises seriously, hoping that she would realize that regardless if he had given her some blue roses at a tourney, he was married to a loyal and kind woman who had given him two children. 

Once, Lyanna asked in a quiet voice if Prince Rhaegar loved Elia, Ashara had remembered how little love there was in their royal marriage, but there were care and fondness. After considering her words, Ashara had spoken, “As you know Lyanna, lords and ladies do not marry for love, but Rhaegar cares for Elia and is thoughtful.”

“You married for love.” Lyanna’s words rang with bitterness. Everyone in Winterfell knew Lyanna was unhappy with her father’s choice in her betrothed, Lord Robert Baratheon, Lord of Storm’s End.

“Ned and I were incredibly lucky that our fathers allowed us…”

“Perhaps, I should give up my honor. I wonder if Robert would want a ruined woman to wed.”

“Lyanna... You mustn't talk like that. Give it time. You may find happiness with him.”

Lyanna had smiled at her and kissed her baby, handing her the child. “You are right. I shouldn’t say such things. I would never... I just feel trapped, sometimes. I am sure it is nerves.”

Later, after Ashara learned that Ned and she were not the only couple writing secret love letters to each other after Harrenhal, she would regret telling her about Rhaegar. Ashara would think on how she should have seen what Lyanna was playing at. If she could have known, Ashara would have lied to her, saying that Rhaegar was devoted to Elia, that Rhaegar was a known adulterer, that Rhaegar could not be trusted. Anything to change what would happen. However, at the time, Ashara did not know what sorrow her truth would bring to Westeros. 

Perhaps, Lord Rickard Stark realized that his children might be looking at partners, other than the ones he had chosen for them. After all, by allowing Ned to marry Ashara, he had set a dangerous precedent. It was rumored that Brandon had taken Lord Dustin’s daughter’s maidenhead and Lyanna’s grumbles about her future husband grew louder every day. To put an end to all his fears, Lord Stark sent Brandon south to Riverrun to marry Catelyn Tully. 

Lyanna had begged to go. At the last minute, her father had allowed her to go with her brother. However, Lord Rickard Stark said when she returned he would have Lord Baratheon at Winterfell, so they could be wed and she would be smiling on her wedding. Lyanna had agreed too quickly. Ashara had tried to question her about it but there was no time.

Two weeks later, a breathless messenger from the contingent that rode south returned to Winterfell. On the way to Riverrun, Lyanna had been kidnapped, taken by men. As the story unfolded, it became clear she had been taken by not just any men, but by Prince Rhaegar and his personal guard. Worse even, Brandon had ridden directly to King’s Landing, where he had been arrested for threatening the Prince and being held in the Black Cells with his men. 

Lord Stark had grown red with rage at the words being spoken. He knew his son Brandon was often hot-headed, but to hear that he had ridden to the capitol walls and called out for the Prince’s blood, seemed even beyond Brandon Stark’s judgment. He had sent his men from the hall until only it was Maester Luwin, Ned, Benjen and her. He had looked at them and told him that he would ride south and collect his eldest son and only daughter. After all, the King would see reason, especially if the Prince had dishonored Lyanna.

 

Ashara had spoken up, “Lord Stark, I can’t believe that Rhaegar would kidnap a lady or hurt her. It is not in his nature. If we were talking of other young lords, I might believe they would hurt or capture a lady for dishonorable intentions, but not Prince Rhaegar. He is known for his courtesy and his generosity. I am sure he has not hurt her. He is a married man and Princess Elia has just given him a son and heir.”

Lord Rickard had looked at her with his grey eyes, so much like her husband. He had rubbed his beard thoughtfully and looked at her as if she could never understand the world of men. “My Lady, I did not ask your opinion of Prince Rhaegar or your advice on this situation. My daughter Lyanna was raised with too few rules and too much freedom, much like you. My wife died when she was young, and until you arrived, she was the only lady at Winterfell. My daughter is as willful and hot-blooded as her brother Brandon. Perhaps, your Prince has the best intention, but none of us here can know what reckless folly either Lyanna or the Prince play at, especially since no one has written or sent a messenger. You would think if his intentions were as chivalrous as you say, the Prince would send a messenger to her father. One thing I am sure of is even the coldest of knights soften at the warm touch of a willing lady under the stars. She will be ruined by the time we find her. I am certain of that, as certain as I am of the beard on my face.”

Lord Rickard Stark rode South the next day to collect his daughter and his son. He had kissed Ayanna and handed her back to Ashara. Looking at her, he had said, “My Lady, you might be the biggest mistake I made. Letting Ned marry you has brought a willfulness and disobedience in my house and my children. If I did not love my granddaughter so much, I would say better she be a bastard in Dorne than I see the ruin of my House.”

Ashara had watched him ride away from the ramparts. Ned had found her crying with Ayanna clutched to her chest. Ned had folded her into his arms. She had squeezed him tightly and felt an heavy anxiety that she could not push from her mind. She felt like she was waiting for a storm to blow in from the sea and the last words Lord Stark would speak to her would drag her to the bottom of the sea to their death.


	3. Chapter 3

After Lord Rickard Stark departed, Winterfell was covered with a blanket of snow. Every day for two weeks, it snowed. As the snow piled high against the walls and windows, the anxiety grew underneath the snow-capped keep. Old Nan said it was snow fever and it would pass. A man wasn’t made to be trapped inside for too long. Ashara wondered how things must feel when winter lasted for years, how the anxiety and depression would wear on a person. However, the Northerners seemed unfazed by it, keeping to the same routines, animals were kept, food was made, snow was removed from the yard. Yet, still there was a tension on what was happening in the world outside Winterfell and, day after day, it grew threatening to destroy Ashara’s happy life. She could feel it

At the end of the month, Ashara was on her way to tell Ned to tell him the news that she was again with child. She found him in the corridor on the way to my rooms, as if lost in the familiar corridor of the castle. In his hand, he held a piece of parchment with a seal of a three-headed dragon on it. In the hallway, he gathered her in his arms, crying over the murder of his father and brother. His grief tangled the story up, but Ashara listened and gleaned what she could. Realizing quickly, Ashara understood that Ned was in danger, as was the entire House Stark, including her children.

Unsure what to do, she took him to bed and let him lay in her arms for an hour and collect his thoughts like he was Ayanna. As she laid with him, she marveled at how much they resembled each other. She hated to see him get up but there was much to do. Ned was up within the hour, pacing and talking with Maester Luwin, Jory and Rodrik Cassel, and Benjen about what plans needed to be made. Over the next few days, a flood of ravens came to Winterfell and left quickly. They were small black clouds filled with doom and danger, speaking of alliances, rebellions, and betrayals by the Targaryens. She wondered how many deaths were tied to the small-scaled feet on bits of paper and sent around the Seven Kingdoms. 

In all the ravens and messengers Winterfell received those months, They never received one from Lyanna or Prince Rhaegar, or even her brother, Ser Arthur. Later, Ashara would confront her brother and tell him that one simple message could have stopped thousands from dying on battlefields. He never answered her. 

The story from King’s Landing seemed so far-fetched, it had to be untrue. King Aerys was riddled with a madness, part bloodlust, and part fascination with wildfire. It was this madness that had led him to burn Lord Rickard, Warden of the North, with wildfire while Brandon strangled himself trying to cut himself free and save his father. The King was truly mad to commit such an atrocity. However, it did not end there. He was calling for Ned, and Robert Baratheon, as well as Lady Ashara's brothers, Artemis, her eldest brother and heir to Starfall, and Ser Arthur, to come to King’s Landing and pay for their treachery. It was said that Ser Arthur and Rhaegar could not be found. 

Lord Stark’s grief had been palatable, swollen and aching. The only thing that had brought him joy in that time was Ayanna. He would take her in his arms and swing her toward the sky. Once Ashara caught him staring in the fire, “I was not supposed to rule Winterfell. Now I am ill-suited for a job Brandon was meant to do. Poor Catelyn Tully left a widow without being wed.” 

Ashara teased him, “Too bad you are married to me or you might marry the lady and comfort her in her grief.”

Ned looked at her, hungry with desire and love, “I fear my heart was taken long ago. I do not think she would be to my liking.”

 

Ned called the Northern men to do battle, the rough Northern men with their beards, their loyalty, and their honor. They swore that they would come back victorious to avenge the death of their liege and his heir. They lifted Ned up and each one came forth and swore allegiance to him

On the night before he left to fight in Robert’s Rebellion, he held her in his arms and she cried, “Ned, I did not bring this on you. I did not ask for this. I cannot stop thinking of what your father said that I have brought ruin to your House. I cannot help thinking you believe him. If I was not your wife, how everything would be changed?” 

Ned had looked in her eyes, kissed her and wiped her tears away. He spoke to her, “Do not listen to the words of my father. He was angry and spoke from anger. You are my wife and I would not have it any other way. Listen to me. If the worse comes, send word to Moat Cailin to flood it and let no one in from the South. You will be safe here. Bend the knee. Do what you need for Ayanna and any other child. Benjen will help you and keep you safe.” 

“Ned, do not go south. It is no place for a Stark. That is what your father said.” 

“I must go. It is beyond my will now. Remember though you are my morning star. The first star that you see in the dawn, the star in the North. You are the direction, the light that brings me home. I will come back knowing you are here waiting for me, safe in Winterfell. Stay in Winterfell.” 

 

Before the Battle on the Trident, Ned went to Hoster Tully, but he would not join their cause. So, as the forces of the North, Vale, and the Stormlands met Prince Rhaegar’s on the Trident, it was said that they fought valiantly. But the Prince’s forces outnumbered them. In the heat of the Battle, the Lannisters arrived to help soundly defeat the rebel forces and show the Targaryens their loyalty. .

Maester Luwin knocked on her door before dawn to show her the raven that had arrived. The message spoke that Rhaegar held Lord Eddard Stark in the Black Cells and she must come and swear allegiance. Ashara lay back in bed to mull over what she might do and somehow she fell back to sleep. She woke in the cold grey morning heavy with her second child. The dim light of winter hung in the air. Troubled, she woke unsettled. Rubbing her eyes, she listened for the baby. There was no noise. She looked over and Ayanna slept peacefully. Her face rested and soft. She looked and wondered how late the baby had slept, hearing noises in the yard.

Slowly, fear rose in her stomach and she went from the bed to check the baby more closely.

When she reached to touch Ayanna, she was cold. Clutching the dead baby, she screamed in her grief. Another fear rose in her, a certainty that Ned would die, as sure as his daughter had died, in King’s Landing. The household tried to soothe her crying. Finally, Old Nan had come to her and said she must calm down if she did not want to harm the baby she held inside. 

Wearing black, draped in the grief of her lost daughter, Ashara ordered a trunk to be packed and she would go to King’s Landing to swear allegiance and beg for her husband’s life. Benjen had offered to go in her stead, but she would not allow it. Ashara spoke to him before she went to White Harbor, “Benjen, you must stay here. I may not be born in the North but I know a Stark must always be in Winterfell.” 

For over a fortnight, Ashara was tossed and turned on a boat from White Harbor to King’s Landing. Finally, the towers of the Red Keep came to view and she breathed a sigh of relief. As she stood on the deck of the ship, Ashara felt the first familiar pang of labor and she would not be deterred until she saw King and beg for Eddard’s life. 

 

When she arrived at the Red Keep, over the gates, she saw the head of Robert Baratheon on a pike and covered in pitch. Then, she was ushered to a room to wait for admittance to the Throne Room. The pains had started to grow closer and the pain was starting to quicken her breath. She knew that King Rhaegar made her wait to show her that he was King and would not be rushed. 

When Prince Rhaegar had returned victorious from the Trident, he had come home to the news that his father, Mad King Aerys II, had been found dead on the Iron Throne. Though there had been an investigation, the murderer had not been found. Some said the ghosts of his victims had killed him. Some said Rhaegar had had him murdered. Some said, House Martell. Some said, Jaime Lannister, his own Kingsguard, had killed him when he threatened to burn the entire city with wildfire. Some said the Iron Throne killed him like it had Maegor the Cruel. Regardless, Prince Rhaegar was now King and Elia was now Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

As Ashara waited, her pains grew worse. Finally, when she thought, she might have to tell the steward she would need a birthing bed, Prince Lewyn Martell, a familiar face and a member of the Kingsguard, came to escort her to the Throne Room. Looking at her very pregnant stomach, he spoke, “Lady Stark, you should not have come in your condition.” 

Struggling to keep her composure and to keep standing, she took his arm and hoped she was not sweating too much, She spoke, “Where is my brother, Ser, and why has he not come to greet me? “

“The Sword of Morning escorts the King’s Rhaegar's, second wife and second queen to King's Landing. It has been slow going since the Queen is close to her birthing time.“

“The second queen?”

“Why your good sister, Lyanna Stark?”

Ashara took his arm more tightly. The Faith of the Seven would not stand for Rhaegar to have two wives. Perhaps, he was as mad as his father. Ashara thought to herself how Lyanna and Elia could go along with such an arrangement but she knew she would never have the courage or discourtesy to ask how the three came to such an understanding. 

 

Pregnant and in a black velvet dress, Ashara Stark, Lady of Winterfell knelt before the King and Queen, speaking, “Your Majesty, I come to swear allegiance for House Stark and beg for the life of my husband, Eddard Stark, father of my child.”

As she spoke the words, Ashara touched her stomach, reminding them of the child within. In that moment, the pain overtook her. On her hands and knees, she gritted her teeth to make no noise and wait for the pain to subside. As she waited, Lady Stark knew she would need a room soon or the child might be born in the Throne Room. 

Ashara felt Elia before she saw her. The Queen had gotten off her throne and walked down the stairs to help her friend. The Queen’s tiny hands on her shoulders gathered her in for an embrace, saying Ashara was her sister in all, but name, and she loved me. Good Sweet Elia. Queen Elia herself helped Ashara from the floor.

As Ashara stood to hear King Rhaegar’s acceptance of her fealty, she felt the warm rush of water between her legs. On the great stone floor of the Red Keep, Lady Stark's waters broke. 

Elia looked at her, questioning and then she laughed. Calling for assistance, Elia had taken Ashara’s hand in hers, as Ser Jaime Lannister carried her, “You should have stayed in Winterfell and rested, not traveling the breadth of the Seven Kingdoms. You were always one to follow your heart and not think about things.” 

“Elia, I fear this child will never see his father.”

“Shhh.. Don’t talk such foolishness. Rhaegar is sending for him. Even as we speak, Rhaegar has sent the guards to get your husband out of the Black Cells. Do not make me false. You must be well when he returns, as will the child.”

It was quick, even with the fear. Almost as soon as she was laid in the birthing bed, the baby came. He was red-faced and had silver wisps among the black hair on his head with the purple eyes. She named him, Edric, an old Stark name, after her husband, good and faithful. 

Elia held the boy, “He is beautiful. He looks almost entirely like a Dayne. He and Prince Aegon will be good friends, as we are. “

Ashara fell asleep and when she woke, a thin, worn and wounded man was sitting by her bed, holding her son. For a moment, she went to protest, but then she saw it was Ned, pulled from the dungeon, washed but worn. He brightened when he saw her wake, “Ash, the baby.. You came against my wishes. Why? You should have stayed in Winterfell.”

“Benjen’s in Winterfell. I needed to come here. After all, I was in King’s Landing for years. I understand it. Benjen would have just gotten in trouble.”

Carefully, he climbed beside her in the bed with their son. When she told him of Ayanna’s death and her fear, he kissed her and held her. He told her of his meeting with Rhaegar in his solar, “What you had told my father was true. Rhaegar didn't kidnap her. Lya ran away with him. They had planned it. As soon as you and the baby are well, we will return home. Lya has chosen to be a second wife, barely more than a paramour.” 

The Master told her not to get out of bed but Ashara would not have her husband kneel alone. So, when Lord Eddard Stark went to kneel and pledge allegiance in the Great Hall, Ashara went with him, slowly and gently. King Rhaegar came down with the great Valyrian sword, Ice, handing it back to Ned and helping him to his feet. “Our families have been joined. Let us not have animosity between us. Your wife is like my own sister and your sister is my wife. Lyanna should be arriving shortly. Stay with us until she returns.” 

Whether it was an invitation or a demand, Eddard Stark could not refuse the King and so they stayed in the Red Keep, half prisoners and half guests, entertaining the Northern men as they were slowly released from the dungeons. 

It was late one night when Ser Arthur Dayne came to his sister’s chambers. He looked pale and did not embrace her or offer explanations. Instead, he spoke, curtly, “Queen Lyanna is ill and in labor. The Queen... Queen Elia has sent for you, Ashara to help her. Lord Stark, your sister keeps calling for you. Will you come with me?”

 

Unsure what to do, Ned and Ashara followed the knight to a set of rooms. In the first room, Ned was instructed to wait. In the second room, Elia was waiting for me. There was a secret door behind her and it appeared she did not want anyone to know she came to help Lyanna. “She is dying, Ashara. You must tend to her. I cannot go to her but you must. Tell her I have no ill will to the girl. Her child will be sister to my children. Rhaegar kept her in a tower all these months, alone. Please help her, like you helped me.”

“I’ll do it because she is my sister like you are my sister and I love you both. But someday, we will talk about this..”

“Of course, Ashara. We will need some Tyroshi brandy and some Dornish Sour and a whole night.” Elia kissed her, pointing to the door, and left her secret way.

When Ashara opened the door, the smell of blood assailed her nose. Ashara had helped with Elia’s birth and had two of her own but never had she seen so much blood. It kept coming as if there was no stopping it. Lyanna was pale and crying and the midwife was trying to comfort her. Ashara had asked the maester, “Where is it all coming from?”

“She is hemorrhaging, my lady and I don’t know how long she will last.”

Lyanna saw her and smiled, “I dreamed you jumped from Starfall after Ned broke your heart. I dreamed Ayanna was dead in her crib. The things I have dreamed. Am I dead, too? I am certain I will be.”

Feeling Lyanna’s skin, she was burning to the touch and her lips looked cracked and dry. How long had she been ill? Why had they not stopped at a Keep to care for her? How hard had they pushed to get her here? Ashara took a cool wet cloth from a bowl beside the bed and started wiping her face, “Shh. you are safe now. In King’s Landing.”

Lyanna grasped her hand, “I am sorry, Ashara. I am sorry for their deaths. Please get Ned. He must keep the baby safe. Safe from Robert. I keep having these dreams.”

Ashara thought she must mean her brother and father, “I will get Ned but first, let’s try and get the baby out safely.”

It was then Lyanna started screaming, “Not here. Not in King’s Landing. This is where they stabbed Rhaenys. This is where they smashed Rhaegar’s infant son, Aegon against a wall. They will kill this one... I cannot give birth here. Please take me to Winterfell.”

“Shh. Aegon is fine, as is Rhaenys, as will your baby be safe. Lyanna, you are feverish. You are ill. We need to get the baby out, so we can tend to you and bring you home.” 

“I am dead in Winterfell, already. Ned has put me in the crypts. My skin is as cold as stone as cold as winter.”

"Shh.. Lyanna. Push. Push as hard, as you can and I will get all the damned Maesters in King's Landing to help you. Where is the King?"

 

There was a groan and push and so much blood, but the child came out, crying and angry, a good sign. It was a boy, who looked like Ayanna come again. 

The midwife or the Maester called out “A Prince! A Prince ring the bells... A Prince!”

Ashara watched them bundle the boy, as she lifted her good sister’s head to give her water. “Visenya… It’s a boy. Rhaegar will be disappointed. He wanted a Visenya. Please... Ashara, get Ned. Please, Ashara." 

Her pitiful pleas spurred her to go and collect her husband, though she thought it strange she did not call for Rhaegar. 

At first, Ned would not go to her. He refused still angry at her choices, at her selfishness. Then Ashara took his hands in hers, “Please, Ned.”

Ned followed Ashara, finally seeing the blood on her dress, seeing the death in my face. Lyanna was mad with grief over dying, grief over her fever dreams, grief with how she was the reason thousands of men bled into the ground. Lyanna, looking small and unnaturally pale, took her brother’s hand in hers. She was half dead when she kissed his hand and she never saw Rhaegar behind him, never reached for him. Instead, Lyanna had apologized but no words would bring back who they had lost or make up for what she had done. Then, she whispered to Ned that the baby’s name was Aegon Targaryen and made him promise her he would raise him as his own in Winterfell.

She spoke, “Before Rhaegar died, he came to me and told me his is the song of ice and fire.”

Ned had cried holding her bloody hand, “We cannot call the boy, Aegon, Lya. We cannot. Aegon is well.”

She smiled, “Call him Jon, after your foster father. Jon. Raise him as your bastard and he will be safe from Robert. Promise me, you will keep him safe.”

“Shhh.. Lya, you are feverish and know not of what you speak. I promise I will keep the boy safe. “ 

Ashara sat on the chair with the boy. He whimpered, rooting at her, looking for his mother’s breast. He looked so much like Ayanna that her heart broke for her lost girl. She took her breast out and fed the new prince, while his mother died behind them. 

Finally realizing his wife was dying, Rhaegar pushed past Ned to take Lyanna s hand but she was already gone and would not respond. He kept repeating to her, “Lyanna, wake, please. Please. I need you. I.. Please.”

Finally, he said: “I love you.” Then, King Rhaegar roared and railed and wept.

When Rhaegar had finally collected himself, he sat and looked at his bloody hands but he spoke to Ned and Ashara, “I cannot name the boy Aegon. I already have a son named Aegon.” 

Ned spoke cautiously, “In her fever, she told me to call him Jon. Jon.”

“It is not very princely.”

Ashara spoke from the chair, admiring the boy while he fed and slept, “Neither was Duncan but a Prince was named that.”

Rhaegar came to look at his son at that moment. Ashara bundled the boy up and handed him to his father, “Jon Targaryen. I suppose it will do.”

Elia had come to see the boy and Ashara was nursing him. She had not wanted to give him or Edric to the wet nurse and instead she fed them like commoners do as if they were twins. Elia laughed out loud, “You have given him your milk. He is your children’s milk brother.”

 

Ashara had stayed in King’s Landing for over a fortnight feeding Lyanna’s son alongside her own. Arthur had brought a girl from Starfall to help feed the Prince, Wylla who helped feed the boys. When the time came to leave Jon, Ashara found she could not, so she went to the King and asked to bring him to Winterfell until he was older. Still raw with grief and a kingdom angry at misrule, Rhaegar allowed the boy to go to Winterfell and be returned when he could survive King’s Landing.

On the dock, Ashara kissed the Queen’s cheek and squeezed her telling her that she loved her and that they would see each other soon. Elia had laughed, “I will bring the wine to Winterfell when I collect my son.”

Ashara knew that Elia would be kind to Lyanna’s son. After all, Elia was Dornish and Targaryen and Jon would be her son as much as he was Rhaegar’s. On a ship headed for White Harbor, Lord and Lady Stark, Prince Jon, Edric Stark and Wylla headed to Winterfell. 

Sometimes as they sailed home, Ned would hold her with Edric and Jon between them as they sailed to White Harbor. “Ash, you are my light on the darkest nights. You are my morning star.”

In a velvet box, Lyanna’s bones sat, at the foot of the small bed they shared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay- So if Ashara had a daughter and she died.. Ashara had a daughter and she died. 
> 
> Obviously, I couldn't name Robb .. Robb.. if Robert doesn't win the war, so I tossed around naming him a name from the Dayne side but I think Ashara is angry at her brother. So he gets a name after his father, which is not super common, but not uncommon. There are some say that Edric Dayne is actually named after Ned soo.. I just went with it. 
> 
> I thought it would be interesting that the children that look like Catelyn will now look like Ashara. 
> 
> I am interested in how AUs certain things must be so- if Jon must be Ice and Fire - he has to go North, in order to ultimately save the world.. The last part just came to me.. Imagine if what was supposed to happen the canon universe leaks in through fever dreams and real dreams.. Anyway, I want to finish this by the end of February. I hope you like it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! So sorry it took so very long to finish this story... I started getting caught up in this world where Targaryens still rule Westeros. I had several chapters written but I realized that this is not that story. This is just a story about Ned and Ashara. I guess I felt it should end where the series began.
> 
> Obviously, there is so much I did not put in this, but I hope you can follow what has happened in the fifteen years we have not seen.
> 
> I had this scene where Visenya and Bran were climbing the towers when they came upon Cersei and Jaime. Jaime, of course, does not hurt Visenya but she no longer speaks. Perhaps, I will write it someday...

Even after fifteen years of living in Winterfell, Lady Stark likes her rooms as hot as they can be. It is because she was raised in the South in the hot Dornish sun. It is said Lord Stark loved her because of that because she is pure fire and he is the northern ice. Everyone told her that he was a cold man and she would be miserable. She knew they were wrong. He is not cold and she is far from miserable. 

Ned is not a man of many words but he had a small sept built for her in Winterfell and sent for a Septon and a Septa. She appreciates the things he does for her. She appreciates that after fifteen years he looks at her like she is the only woman he sees like she is the only woman who breathes. 

It is the night before the King comes to Winterfell. King Rhaegar comes to collect his son and a new Hand. Ned did not want to go. He called the South a nest of adders and it was she that convinced him to go. Not because there was any real love between the Starks and Rhaegar, even after fifteen years, old wounds had not healed and there was no real love between them. Ashara had convinced him to go for Jon. Jon was to be the Prince of Dragonstone, the heir of the Iron Throne, and Ned loved Jon as if he was his own child. 

In the dark before the coming day, Ashara wonders if she made the right decision pushing Ned to make this choice. When he leaves Winterfell with the King, he will be taking three of their children with him to King’s Landing, as well as Jon. What kind of place is King’s Landing for a child? She thinks to herself that she was sent when she was young and she survived. It is good for them. Sansa will find a good husband. Bran will make the Targaryens love them. Arya could use some refinement.

Jon was not meant to rule. Rhaegar had put all the training and effort of making a King and a warrior of his first son, Aegon. Aegon had been all the realm could have wanted in a King with silver hair and purple eyes, as lovely as his father, but with none of his brooding. Aegon had been charismatic, quick to joke, quick to laugh and easy to love. Rhaegar had married him to Margaery Tyrell, the Little Rose earlier in the year. 

The whole of the Seven Kingdoms had been happy in the match if she could believe what Princess Rhaenys had written her. Margaery had been lovely, charming and sweet as Aegon had been courteous and chivalrous. As they walked from the Sept of Baelor after their nuptials to the Red Keep, the smallfolk cried and threw flowers at their feet. All could say they were in love and well loved by the people.

All the more devastating that a terrible tragedy had happened at Dragonstone. What had actually happened, most everyone was still unclear on the events. It had involved fire and dragon eggs and death and Dragonmount. When the smoke cleared, Aegon and Margaery, who had been five months pregnant, were dead, as was Prince Viserys, Ser Loras Tyrell, Prince Lewyn Martell, and Ser Barristan Selmy. Princess Arianne Martell, VIserys’ wife, had been saved by the Hand, Jon Connington, who had gone back in the flame to rescue the Prince where he perished.

Rhaenys had written of her grief and the surprise at finding Princess Daenerys still alive amid the smoke and flame. After a night in a terrible fire, everyone had been certain she was dead but Daenerys came out of the smoke and carnage with three newly hatched, baby dragons. Whatever fell magic Viserys had been behind, that he had convinced his nephew to be a part of had killed them, yet the dragons had been reborn back into this world. 

Ashara had kept up a correspondence with Princess Rhaenys after her mother had died when she was eight, watching her from afar and trying to give her what counsel she could. Ashara had breathed a sigh of relief when two years ago the King had married her to the recently widowed Maester of Laws, Lord Stannis Baratheon. Rhaenys had wanted to marry his younger brother Renly, but the King had better foresight than a sixteen-year-old. There was not love but there was genuine affection, and if it was true that Lord Baratheon rarely smiled, if he did it was at his young bride and their son, Orys. 

Rhaenys and her son would be waiting with her husband at King’s Landing. She did not like her father’s new wife, even though he had been married to her for over a decade. Also, who would watch the terrible old metal chair while Father is away, she had written. 

The King had been at Casterly Rock with the Queen visiting her family and had rushed back. After Queen Elia had died from a sudden fever, the King had no desire to remarry. He had two sons and a daughter, as well as a brother and a sister. However, it was seen as a way to heal the realm and he had married a young, beautiful, recently widowed Lady Crakehall, Cersei Lannister. It was said the King was kind and attentive to her, but would not sleep with her. If asked when the Queen might give birth, the King would reply that the Dragon had three, no five heads, and they did not need another. Whether Rhaegar had been drunk or bewitched or in love with his wife, seven years ago Queen Cersei had the only child to come from the union, a pretty silver and golden-haired girl with one green eye and one lavender. Rhaenys and Jon had both loved their youngest sister with all their hearts but they found their step-mother a vain and stupid creature. 

Ashara has been having bad dreams. It was a bad dream that woke her and she cannot find her way back to sleep. Laying next to her husband, she reached in the darkness to wrap her arms around his sleeping form. At first, they were old nightmares; of Lyanna dying, of Rickard burning in his armor above wildfire, of her sister drowning, of Ned marrying another woman, of Robert crushing Rhaegar's chest with his war hammer, of her dark-haired baby, her daughter Ayanna stillborn. 

Then the old nightmares changed. They became new dreams, troubling, anxiety producing nightmares. There were dreams of Daenerys amid the blood-stained stone, rubble smoking and on fire with three baby dragons. There was the dream she had of King Rhaegar came, all in black, except for his crown. He took Ned’s arm. “Show me, Lyanna. Lord Stark, I wish to see her.”

The Queen, Cersei, spoke tight-lipped and gorgeous in green, “My darling... It has been a long journey. Perhaps you could go later.”

Rhaegar never broke Ned’s gaze, “Show me Lyanna, Lord Stark.” 

But the sense of dread came raining from the sky and bubbling from the ground, a thick oily darkness. She looked and saw only darkness and an army of death. 

There were more dreams, of Jon wearing the crown, of Daenerys on her wedding day, of Arianne climbing in bed with Jon, a bed still warm from Daenerys’ body, a dream of Jon holding Dark Sister. There was a dream of Bran falling from the abandoned tower in Winterfell, as a small silver-haired girl who would not speak watched crying. The last vision had been Ned losing his head while Sansa sobbed into Jon’s arms. In this image, she had woken, her heart racing and fear gripped her. 

She has been haunted by this sense of dread since Rhaegar’s ravens had come to Winterfell. Still, even earlier, she had felt it since Jon arrived four moons ago. 

The Prince had come every year since he was five but this visit had been strange, full of rumor and threat as if the very air held it. There had been that crazed deserter from the Wall talking of the Others, White Walkers, the stuff of nightmares. The children had found the direwolf puppies this visit. It had been almost magical finding them but direwolves had not been seen so long there was a sense of danger, an air of the supernatural. There was one for each of the Stark children and one leftover, white and silent with red eyes. Jon took that one and named it Ghost.

Jeor Mormont, Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, had sent word that rangers were disappearing and there were rumors of an army of wildlings amassing beyond the Wall. This was dark news because more and more reports were that wildlings were spotted in the North.

Ashara wakes and takes a few deep breaths, enjoying the crisp feel of the night air. Ned must have opened the windows in the night to cool down. She pulls the furs over her and pressed against her husband’s body. He pulls her closer to him, sleepy “Ash, Good Morning.”

She whispers back to him, “It is still night, my love.”

He laughs, pulling her to him and kissing her neck, “Good. I do not want to be disturbed.”

Laughing, she took his face in her hands and kissed him. She likes how his face had aged, lined and rough Though he might not be as handsome as his brother, she always woke glad to see his face. He bent his head down to take her nipple in his mouth. Murmuring a contented sound of approval, she kissed him back. Ashara spoke, “Perhaps, we should have another baby.”

Ashara hoped to get pregnant once more She still could. Her own mother had been older than her when Allyria, her sister, was born.

He smiled at her, “Isn’t six enough?”

“Seven would be better.” 

“Gods, I love your hair,” he said, threading it between his fingers. Ashara had started noticing the grey in it, but he still loved it soft and loose over her shoulders. Sometimes, she cannot believe she has been married to him for fifteen years. She cannot believe the time has gone so quickly, so many happy days. 

They had had Ayanna, who had died all those years ago. Then Edric, Sansa, Arya, Brandon, and Rickon. Of all her children, only Arya looked liked a Stark. The rest of her children had the thick, dark black hair and purple eyes of House Dayne. Some said that Stark’s looked more Targaryen and Jon Targaryen looked more Stark. She was glad she had left Court years before because she did not need more foolish talk and hurtful rumors. 

When she came against his shoulder, panting, she realized she had only ever loved this man, a second son, this quiet, shy, fiercely loyal man whose honor was something she could depend on. Ashara waits for him to fall back to sleep and she feels his breathing slow and his hands still against her hips. 

She has been a lucky woman to find such a man, as Ned Stark. She puts her hands over his stomach. If she has another, perhaps they will have an Artos or a Lyarra.

Ashara still cannot sleep. She hears no noises but she knows Jon is out in the yard, practicing. He is like her own son and she can sense his anxiety and uncertainty. She dresses in a nightdress and a robe and heads to the yard. 

She heads to the yard in the dark. Several guards go to follow their lady but she waves them away. Winterfell is her home and she is safe here and has no need of their assistance. She could find her way to the yard if she was blind. She knows all the ways around Winterfell.

She sees him in the yard. Ser Oswell is with him. Ser Oswell has come with him every year since his birth. He is the boy’s shadow but he is not silent. He is a big man, prone to laughter and jokes, and when it is Ser Oswell and Jon alone, she knows he gives his counsel and his praise. Ser Oswell is a big man and Ashara knows he is as deadly as any of them. 

She knows Ser Oswell knows she comes before he looks to her. Ser Oswell speaks “Lady Ashara, we hope we have not waked you. The Prince is unable to sleep and so he has decided to practice in order to please his father. I told him he should find a harp and practice that as the King has never been pleased with the boy’s skill with a sword.”

He laughs but it isn’t a joyful sound.

She smiles at him and walks beyond him. Jon has stopped swinging at the wooden scarecrow in the yard. He is leaning against the rock wall, trying to regain his breath. 

Ashara stands next to him, “Are you having trouble sleeping? I could bring you something to help.”

Jon looks to the horizon, “No reason. It is almost dawn now.”

She smiles at him, touching his face. He is all of fourteen but this year he turns fifteen. He barely has hair on his face. Ashara remembers she was his age when her parents sent her to King’s Landing to attend Princess Elia. Could she have been so young ever?

He allows her to touch his face. After all, she is the closest thing he has ever known to a mother. She kept him here with her at Winterfell safe until he was almost three. Every year since he was six, he has come for a few moons with Ser Whent. Jon comes hungry for the food and the forest, for the air and the godswood. He comes here starving for her touch, her hugs, her praise. He comes with questions. When he was little, he used to watch her brush her hair. Sometimes she would let him brush it. The Prince visits every summer for a few months. Once when he was no older than nine, Jon asked her, watching her while she brushed her long hair, "They say my mother's hair was dark like yours, like mine. Does your look like hers?"

"Yes, my love but she had curls like yours and mine is straight." 

She wonders why she remembers that exchange and why it makes her heartache. 

She gives her kisses and gentle touches, freely as she has since his birth. He may not be her child or a Stark but he is her family, Ned’s blood. Perhaps, he is her seventh child and her heart aches to see him in turmoil. 

“Your Grace, are you worried?”

He looked at her unsure if he should vocalize his concerns and anxiety. 

“Aunt, please don’t call me that. I am just Jon to you. Nothing has changed, not really.”

“I understand, but I will call you your proper titles especially around your father. Are you nervous to see him?”

Jon scratched his white wolf pup, Ghost as if he was trying to avoid the subject. “Not nervous. I always feel like I have let him down in everything I do. Aegon was more like Father. Rhaenys is like her mother. I am all Stark. Sometimes, Viserys would call me Jon Snow as a way to insult me. I never told father but I wished for terrible things to happen to him. Now he is dead, as is Aegon. Aegon was bred to be King. I am a poor substitute.”

“Shush, that is not true. Are you worried about the crown?”

“I would be a fool if I wasn’t.”

“You are not a fool, Jon. You know the story of your uncle and your birth. You know your Uncle was not meant to rule the North and hold Winterfell, but he does. I have thought it has made him a more thoughtful lord.”

She wondered how much the loss of his mother has affected him over the years

“Lady Stark, do you think Daenerys comes with father?” 

“I am certain she does. I am sure your father is anxious that you are wed. Are you anxious?”

“Perhaps, I do not agree with who the King has chosen.”

Jon looked at her. She looked at him and he looked away avoiding her “Do you not want to marry Daenerys?”

“I did not say that .. Marriage is just so long. ”

She looked at him raising his eyes to hers. She kissed his forehead. “I cannot help you if you are not honest.” 

Ashara has seen the way Jon looks around a room for Sansa. He looks at her like she is a precious thing, too precious for him. She has seen the way Sansa meets his eyes and then looks away and then looks back into his eyes. She sees the way he looks lovingly at her or absently will touch her daughter's hair. The Prince is shy and quiet he is the second son and has lived his life in his elder brother’s boisterous style. She wonders if they speak of the feelings they have for each other. She has seen it before, a Targaryen and a Stark and how when the Stark girl died his heart hardened. She would want more for him, better than his father had and she would want so much more for her daughter than Lyanna had. But she knows that Sansa has stitched a token for Jon and she keeps a lock of his hair in her jewelry box. There was a time before the letters came telling of a tragedy that she had thought what a good match they would be. After all, Sansa would be married to a Prince, third in line to the Iron Throne. 

When the ravens had come speaking of death and dragons, King Rhaegar had sent Jon a letter. In the letter, it spoke of how he had found him a betrothed in his young Aunt, Daenerys. After all, Daenerys had hatched three eggs and survived a disaster that killed so many. Overnight, she had become the most eligible lady in Westeros and Rhaegar had the sole right to decide who she would marry. The King was bringing her and her dragons to marry them in the Sept at Winterfell, so that there would be no would be lords who might kidnap a princess, who was also the Mother of Dragons and marry her. 

Later that night when Jon had told the family that his father had announced his betrothal to Daenerys, Jon had looked at Sansa apologetically. Sansa seemed quiet and sad but she did not show too much of her feelings. Perhaps they had exchanged words of love. Nothing as rebellious as a promise, maybe some stolen kisses, a few stray exchanges in the godswood or in a hallway. 

She understood he did not want to be his father and caught in the mess of love or like his grandfather who had mistresses and was hurtful to his grandmother. 

 

“Jon, some of the greatest marriages have grown out of heartache. It is said that Lady Catelyn Tully was distraught when Brandon Stark died, but she and Lord Tytos have a very affectionate marriage and are well matched. Soon, Edric will be married to their daughter Alys. Or your sister Rhaenys who loved Renly Baratheon but when your father insists that she marry Lord Stannis they seem happy now, in love, probably a more joyful and affectionate than if she had married Renly. I have heard you speak fondly of Daenerys. I have heard she is one of the prettiest girls in all the Seven Kingdoms.”

“She is and I am fond of her. What if I had promised something to a lady? Wouldn’t I have to stand by my promise?”

Ashara bit her lip and looked to him in the growing light, “Jon, listen to me... Perhaps, you promised something in the dark after a feast, after a kiss. Perhaps, you meant it. Regardless, you had no right to speak such promises, even if they were made from the heart. You do not get to decide who you marry, not this time, maybe never. You are to be King and you will find the more power you have, the fewer choices you have. Perhaps, if you were still the second son, you might persuade your father with promises whispered at dances and blue roses given at tourneys. However, you are the Prince of Dragonstone, the heir to the Iron Throne and he knows well enough what promises and kisses given from the heart do to Seven Kingdoms. People bleed and starve and weep. You are a gentle boy with a good heart. Marry your Princess and let the Seven Kingdoms prosper. I will tend to the girl whose heart is sore from well-meaning promises.”

“What of my honor, my word?” 

She hugged the boy. “Jon, your honor, and your word are still true, still good. Remember this and learn from it. Even the most lovely promises, given too carelessly, without consideration, from a Prince have consequences. Listen, I love you as you were my own. I would have told your mother this if I had been able, do your duty to your family and your people. I will tend to Sansa. Now go to bed, The king will wonder why you are sleeping when he comes. ”

Ashara looked to Ser Oswell to take the boy to bed. As she walked into Winterfell, she looked up to the heavens and saw the Northern Star in the sky, glowing brightly and fiercely. She prayed silently to the Seven and the Old Gods to keep her family safe, to keep the Prince, her nephew safe. Pulling her cloak around her, she knew she would need more than prayers in the upcoming years


End file.
